


Fuck You

by sly_as_an_alpaca



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 14:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sly_as_an_alpaca/pseuds/sly_as_an_alpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ridiculously short drabble.<br/>Prompt: "Fuck you." "Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck You

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is obscenely short but eh. Please call me out if there are typos, I wrote this in like five minutes and only proofread once, so there are bound to be some. Thanks for reading!

"Oh, what would you have done, Potter? Let your mother get killed?" His eyes are narrowed and his head tilted, the same way he did it when they were in school. The corners of his mouth curl upwards. "Not with those Gryffindor instincts," Malfoy sneers, and Harry feels something burn inside his chest. 

They're older now, they're not supposed to be fighting like this. This is just not something Ministry officials do. They might glare and jibe and backstab, but there are never head-on confrontations like this, never. This was quite obvious from the glares shot at them by the Ministry workers passing by, arms piled high with boring paperwork and nice shoes tapping against the marble. Adults, especially these adults (the most adult-y adults in existence, if you ask Harry) just do not put up with such tripe.  

But God, when Malfoy quirks his eyebrow and scoffs, "What, no answer? Or did that tiny brain of yours simply overload?" he wants nothing more than to plant a fist directly through one of those pointy cheekbones.

Pointy, just like everything else on him; pointy nose, pointy eyes, pointy chin, pointy elbows; even his hair is sort of pointy in its own Malfoyish way. Something registers in Harry's mind that he should probably offer some kind of answer before Mr. Pointy calls a paramedic (though, knowing him, he might just walk away). He huffs, bites his lip, and says, "I wouldn't have taken the mark." 

"Wouldn't you have? I--"

" _I_ had to, _I_ did it for my _dear old mummy -_  why is it always about you, Malfoy? Why do you not possess the _capacity..."_ Harry seethes, scrambling for the rest of his words amidst white rage. He clenches his fists, grinds his teeth with the hope that he looks intimidating. 

There was a strange pause, a space in the conversation as something in Malfoy's expression slips. He steps forward, their chests inches apart; his eyes flicker down Harry's form and up again. Venom seeps into his expression. "Oh," he breathes, "Oh, that is _rich."_

Harry's eyebrows furrow. "Sorry?"

"I said that's _rich--"_ he snarls, shoving Harry backwards with much more strength than his thin frame would suggest, "--coming from _you_ \--" another shove, and Harry feels his back slam into the wall. Hot breath tickles his ear and Malfoy is much, much closer than he has any right to be. "--Potter."

"What?" Harry murmurs. Well, it was meant to be more of a sneer, but by the time it made its way through his lips it lost some of its conviction, distracted by the ghost of Malfoy's lips against his jaw. Is he imagining things? 

"Well, it always was about you, wasn't it?" he says, drawling aristocratic tones even closer than before. "Potter did this, Potter did that, did you see how much Potter grew over the summer, his eyes are so pretty." He smirked. "Maybe if you'd stopped and observed for a moment or two, you could've realized how fucking self-absorbed you were."

Harry chuckles, tapping his foot idly, only to realize his knee had slid between Malfoy's legs at some point. "You're an arse." 

A hum rumbles close to his ear, and Harry almost thinks Malfoy's hum sounds a bit pointy too. "Takes one to know one, Potter."

"Fuck you, Malfoy." 

A long, pale finger runs down his jaw and under his chin. "Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?"


End file.
